


you're an angel (in my eyes)

by ifthebookdoesntsell



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Couch Sex, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fluff and Smut, I have No Excuse, Praise Kink, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifthebookdoesntsell/pseuds/ifthebookdoesntsell
Summary: Alyssa looks adorable.Emma tries to focus on such a fact, eyes skating over the slope of her wife’s nose, the line of her jaw, anything to distract herself from the hand that is drawing out cursive patterns on the inside of her knee, from the feeling of Alyssa so close, pressed against her side and curled up under her arm.Alyssa’s hands wander like this all the time when they’re alone, like they can’t get enough of Emma if she’s close enough to touch, even if the woman is focused on something completely different.(Or, the one where they're watching a movie, and Alyssa isn't even aware that she isn't keeping her hands to herself.)
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	you're an angel (in my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> well. here i am again lmao. i wish i had an excuse, but i really don't have one lmao. i thought i would take a break a few days from writing, but i got inspired, soooo here i am lmao. 
> 
> a bit awkward to say i hope you enjoy (i feel like i always am saying that on my smut lmao), but i hope that you enjoy!

It’s not as if Alyssa is even aware of what she’s doing. 

Emma knows that. 

They’re watching a movie, and it’s not like her wife is trying to be distracting, but every time she shifts against her, every time that nimble fingers start to move lazily over her thigh through her sweatpants, every time she shifts so that she can nose at her jaw, Emma finds her focus shifting further and further away from the movie. 

Alyssa, however, seems fully engrossed, head tilted to the side as the acting occurs on screen, as if she’s trying to understand. 

She looks adorable. 

Emma tries to focus on such a fact, eyes skating over the slope of her wife’s nose, the line of her jaw, anything to distract herself from the hand that is drawing out cursive patterns on the inside of her thigh, from the feeling of Alyssa so close, pressed against her side and curled up under her arm. 

Alyssa’s hands wander like this all the time when they’re alone, like they can’t get enough of Emma if she’s close enough to touch, even if the woman is focused on something completely different. 

Sometimes, they end up under Emma’s shirt, and other times, they trace the seam of her pajama pants all the way up the inside of her thigh and move back down.

Like right now. 

Emma shifts, pressing her lips together to keep composed as Alyssa remains none the wiser, brow even furrowed in concentration as the setting on screen changes. 

Emma has completely lost track of what’s going on. 

She tries to re-center herself, but then, Alyssa’s free hand— which was fisted in her shirt from when she’d decided to cuddle closer— skims under the hem, fingers dancing along Emma’s stomach in a way that should be completely innocent. 

But it’s been nearly an hour. 

And Alyssa’s touches are still absent at best. 

Emma thinks she just might combust if something doesn’t change quick. 

Heat rushes down her neck as Alyssa’s hand bravely moves higher up her leg, and her resolve snaps when a finger ghosts over the crease of her thigh through the fabric. 

“Can we pause the movie?” Emma gasps, blushing. 

“Why?” Alyssa asks, totally innocent as she looks up at her wife from where she’s leaning against her shoulder. 

Emma reddens further, swallowing hard as her gaze meets dark, soft eyes. “It’s just—” 

She shifts, suddenly aware of how much warmth she’s radiating, how close Alyssa is. 

“It’s just what?” Alyssa murmurs. 

“It’s just—” Emma bites her lip, slightly embarrassed as she looks away. “You’ve been— I mean— your hands—”

Alyssa’s eyes widen as she realizes what Emma is talking about. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” she says quickly, pulling herself back. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! It’s just habit—”

Emma laughs at that, though it comes out a bit strangled, her body already longing for the warmth of Alyssa’s hands on her again. “Babe, I’m not uncomfortable. You’re my wife—” 

“Still!” Alyssa interrupts. “That doesn’t mean I just get to touch you whenever my mind wanders, or just because I’m used to it! I should ask—”

“‘Lys!” Emma finally manages to get a word in, trying not to smile too hard at the miscommunication that’s going on. “I didn’t ask to stop the movie because I wanted you to stop touching me.” She hesitates for a moment, a renewed blush on her cheeks as she continues softly: “In fact, I was kind of hoping for the opposite?” 

Alyssa’s lips part in understanding. “Oh.” She smiles, pretty and shy. “Okay.”

“Is that a good _oh, okay?”_ Emma starts, suddenly just as nervous as Alyssa was a moment ago. She doesn’t know how this happens. She and Alyssa have been together for over ten years, and yet, one smile, one look, and she suddenly feels her heart pick up its pace the same way it did when they first touched hands under the table in chemistry class. “Or was it, like, a medium _oh, okay—”_

Alyssa quiets her with a kiss on the lips. “A good one,” Alyssa murmurs, her hand hooking on the inside of Emma’s thigh again, eyes teasing. “Now, tell me. What was I doing that made you wanna pause the movie?” 

Emma’s eyes snap down to Alyssa’s fingers which have started to draw soft circles again, her breath rough in her chest. 

“‘Lys,” she mumbles quietly, reddening further. 

Alyssa laughs, rough and throaty as she kisses her again, moving, pushing, until Emma is forced to scramble back and lie down, head close to the armrest. They’re pressed so close, and Emma is acutely aware of how every inch they’re touching seems to have been lit ablaze. 

Alyssa smiles down at her, hot and confident, trailing her lips along a sharp jaw. 

“Tell me,” she murmurs, demanding enough that Emma is glad she’s sitting; she’s fairly sure if she wasn’t, her knees would have given out at that. “Did you like when I did this?” Alyssa’s fingers dance up under her shirt once more, tracing patterns over her ribs. She watches as Emma squirms, as she blushes. “Or maybe, you want me to go a bit higher?” she asks, biting her lip when she squeezes Emma’s left breast and feels her hips jump beneath her. “Is that what you want, Em?”

“Yes.” Emma nods quickly, a little overwhelmed and a lot turned on as Alyssa begins to guide her in taking her shirt off, tossing it aside. 

Dark eyes begin to move over her body, and a new heat takes hold in Emma’s gut as Alyssa pulls her own shirt off, hair falling loosely around her shoulders as she does. 

_God,_ she’s gorgeous. Alyssa is soft in all the best places, sculpted in all the others. She’s perfect. 

Emma opens her mouth to say so—

“You’re beautiful.” Alyssa beats her to it. She leans down to kiss her. “You’re so, so beautiful, Emma.” 

“I’m not all that,” Emma mumbles, shy, even after all these years as Alyssa’s hands move over her in awe, thumbing over the swells of her breast. She’s suddenly acutely aware of her decision to not wear a bra. 

“You _are_ all that,” Alyssa insists, so quick, so sure. “Don’t say you aren’t.” 

It’s something they work on. At times, Emma has a tendency to deflect comments, to blush and move on without accepting them. 

“You’re so beautiful, Emma,” Alyssa says again, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear before she moves further down, kissing along the column of her neck. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Emma gasps at that, hips jerking forward. _“Alyssa,”_ she breathes, almost timid. 

Her wife smiles against her collarbone, trailing further until she’s at eye-level with Emma’s chest. 

“I love your body,” Alyssa tells her, kissing along the swell of her right breast before she takes the hard peak in her mouth, swirling her tongue. 

Emma cries out, hands snapping into dark hair, hips snapping up. _“Fuck.”_

“Good girl,” Alyssa whispers, so gentle, so sure. 

_“Please,”_ Emma manages, trying to press her thighs together but to no avail since Alyssa is between them. _“Please.”_

“Do you deserve it?” Alyssa asks softly, rising up to meet her eyes. “Do you think you deserve it?” 

Emma averts her gaze. “I—“ 

“Say you deserve it, baby,” Alyssa says. “Say you’re a good girl.” 

Emma blushes hard at that, suddenly unsure of herself. 

“What do you need to hear?” her wife asks, more gentle this time. “Do you need to hear how much I love you?” Alyssa’s heart speeds when she watches Emma swallow hard. “Because I do. I love you so much.” She smiles when Emma’s fingers tangle in her hair once more as she kisses her neck. “Do you need to hear that you’re my favorite person in the whole world?” She ghosts her hand beneath the waistband of her wife’s sweatpants. “Do you need to hear that I touch myself thinking about you? Thinking about this?” 

Her hand cups Emma through her boxers. 

Emma chokes on her breath. Sure, she knows that Alyssa… _does that_ when she’s away, but she had never thought, had never imagined that maybe— 

“You do?” she manages to ask, through the heat of the room. She knows the question sounds desperate falling from her lips, but she can’t help it.

She wants to know. She wants to hear what exactly— 

Just the thought makes her burn up. Just the thought makes more wetness pool between her thighs. Just the thought makes her shiver— 

“I do,” Alyssa confirms. “I think about you just like this.” She traces over Emma’s clit through soft fabric. “So ready for me. So wet, all for me.” Her hand trails the slightest bit lower, grinning almost wolfishly when Emma’s hips jerk. She ghosts over her entrance, pleased when slickness paints over her fingertips even through the material still in her way. “So pretty. Such a good girl.”

Emma whimpers. _“Alyssa. Please—“_

Alyssa looks up at her, faking innocence. “What is it?” 

“Could you—“ Emma squeezes her eyes shut when Alyssa leans up slightly to suck a mark beneath her left breast before she moves to tongue over its peak again. 

“Could I _what,_ love?” Alyssa hums. 

“Take my pants off?” Emma asks weakly, embarrassment flooding through her when she turns her head to the side slightly to catch her breath, to escape the devastating hotness of watching Alyssa hook her fingers in the elastic of her pants, but it’s all immediately made worse when she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror just beside the front entryway. 

Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. Her hair is mussed. The flush from her cheeks has spread down her neck. 

Part of her urges her to judge herself in the mirror, to point out her imperfections, to ask if she can put her shirt back on— Alyssa always says yes, is always so understanding— but at the same time, another part of her fights against the impulse. 

Alyssa loves her body. She said so. Alyssa likes seeing her. Alyssa— 

_God,_ Alyssa. 

Alyssa’s still looking up at her, so pretty, watching, waiting for her to catch her breath— 

Emma turns back to look at her just as Alyssa finally pulls at the elastic, forcing them down her thighs. They both giggle when Emma wiggles slightly to help them off. 

“These too?” Alyssa asks softly, toying with the hem of her wife’s boxers. 

Emma nods quickly. “Please.” 

Alyssa smiles, pushing them down and discarding them to the side quickly, rising up to kiss Emma on the lips, to spread a hand across her wife’s now bare thigh and the other across her ribs before she can even think to cover herself. 

“I love you so much,” she whispers. 

“I love you too,” Emma replies automatically. 

For a moment, they rest forehead to forehead, eyes looking up into each other as they turn this moment into a gentle forever. 

The longer they stay this way, though, the more Emma becomes aware of the fingers now tracing patterns on the outside of her thigh, becomes aware of the wetness between her legs once more, of the feeling of Alyssa’s skin pressed on hers. 

She can’t help when she surges forward for another kiss, sinking into it, pressing her tongue softly past her lips. Alyssa reciprocates wholeheartedly, humming softly as she urges herself even closer, breathing in through her nose with a quiet laugh, threading a hand through curly blonde hair as she does, pulling softly until Emma groans, chokes on her breath when there’s suddenly a finger swiping through her wetness. 

_“Alyssa,”_ Emma mumbles, hips jumping. _“God. Could you—”_

“Yes?” Alyssa laughs. “Remember I asked you to tell me you deserved this.” She kisses the spot just below her ear. “I can wait.” 

_“‘Lys,”_ the woman whines. She bucks forward. _“I just wanna—”_

“I can wait,” Alyssa repeats, placing a second finger close to her entrance, refusing to dip inside, circling slow enough that Emma wants to scream, wants to snap. Alyssa moves higher, digging her palm into her clit, watching, waiting, raising an eyebrow when Emma whines, clearly so, so close to—

 _“Please,”_ Emma whimpers, gasps. _“Please! I’m a good girl. I deserve this. Please. Just let me—”_

Immediately, Alyssa smiles. “There you are.” She kisses Emma’s pulse point, heart speeding in her chest at the way it's racing under her lips. She marks the spot without thought, pivoting her wrist so she can press inside, curling her fingers back the way she knows Emma likes. “Good girl,” Alyssa murmurs. “Such a good girl.” 

_“Fuck,”_ Emma breathes, head tipping back. _“Fuck, ‘Lys—”_

“This is what I think about,” Alyssa tells her, confident and hot in her ear. “Think about how you feel around me. Think about you, so pretty like this.” 

Emma moans quietly, hands snapping into dark hair, holding her close against her neck. She arches her back, noises and affirmations tearing from her throat when Alyssa curls her fingers back towards her front wall again before pulling back and adding a third smoothly, a little breathless herself. 

The stretch makes Emma whimper, makes her jerk out of time.

Alyssa presses her hips behind each thrust, pulse pumping out of rhythm when Emma’s eyes squeeze shut, every jerk of her hips rough as she chases her release. More warmth and wetness coats her hand as she buries her fingers to the very knuckle, holding herself there for a moment to feel the way Emma quivers, trembles, arches forward, to watch her tip her head back and whimper. 

“Please,” Emma gasps again, hand grabbing at curly dark hair when Alyssa sucks a mark into her neck without second thought. “‘Lys, please—” 

“Such a good girl,” Alyssa whispers, fucking her harder even as her wrist starts to stiffen slightly. “So good.”

Emma’s eyes roll back into her head, one hand gripping tighter in Alyssa’s hair and the other grabbing blindly at her wife’s back, trying to keep her close. 

_“More,”_ she whines, thighs shaking. “ _More, please.”_

Alyssa nods immediately. “Okay, okay,” she whispers into her neck, breath rough as she moves her wrist faster, circles her palm over her clit rougher until Emma can barely get a word out, pleasure tearing from her throat in quiet moans and whispers of Alyssa’s name. 

“I’m close,” she finally whimpers, breathless under the weight of the love Alyssa is communicating in every touch, under the praise that continues to be murmured in her ear, under _everything_ that is Alyssa, beautiful, smart, _wonderful_ Alyssa, Alyssa who loves her, who never fails to take her breath away—

“Come for me?” Alyssa asks in her ear, soft, sweet, sure, 

And just like that, Emma shatters. 

Pleasure rushes through her as she comes, warmth coursing to all her endings, all her beginnings, heat taking up every inch of free space between her and Alyssa. There’s a dizziness about this moment, a sort of headiness to the euphoria that makes Emma breathless, makes head tip back further until—

“One more time for me, baby?” her wife murmurs in her ear, voice so confident, so smooth, that all she can do is nod, is fall apart once more and try to remain in the present. She searches for an anchor, pulling at dark hair further, other hand fisting in the couch cushion as she relaxes back, spent, every part of her vibrating with pleasure and satisfaction. “So good,” Alyssa whispers. “I love you so much.” 

She pulls out as gently as she can, rubbing gently circles over Emma’s hip when she hears her whine, sees her stomach dip. 

Emma blushes furiously. “I love you too.”

Softly, Alyssa hums in amusement to herself as she sucks her fingers into her mouth, smirking when she sees Emma’s brain short circuit once more. 

“Just saying, you should totally make us pause movies more,” the woman teases as she releases her fingers with a _pop._ “You know, just so that we can make sure to take care of whatever’s on your mind so we can focus on the story.”

Emma nods dumbly. “Okay.” 

Alyssa laughs, grabbing Emma’s shirt from the floor and throwing it at her before she grabs the remote. 

“So, should I go back a little?”

“What about you?” Emma asks, gesturing to the fact that Alyssa is only in a sports bra and sweatpants herself. 

“Well, unlike you, I can wait until the end of our planned movie night,” her wife teases. 

Emma raises her eyebrows at that, but she says nothing, only settling back against Alyssa— hand hooked on the inside of the woman’s knee— with a singular thought running through her head as they hit play: 

_We’ll see about that._

**Author's Note:**

> ....again i have no excuse lmao, but i'll ask the usual question: what did you think? if you enjoyed, consider dropping me a comment/kudo down below! it would make me feel smile lmao.
> 
> as always, i'm @ifthebookdoesntsell on tumblr. my askbox is always open for prompts or whatever is on your mind.
> 
> be safe x


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